One Wise Woman
by Sweeney Agonistes
Summary: McGonagall encounters a drunk and despondent Snape in Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve.
1. Part 1

A/N: Beta-read by the marvelous Zsenya at the Sugar Quill! Please assume all usual disclaimers. My apologies for lack of italics, underlining, et cetera -- my HTML skills are sadly lacking; that's no fault of the Sugar Quill's.  
  
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,  
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,  
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins,  
But there was no information, and so we continued  
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon...  
  
  
-from "Journey of the Magi", T.S. Eliot  
  
  
Albus had granted leave for the day to any faculty member who wished it. Seeing as it was Christmas Eve and I had not yet purchased my sister Medea a gift, I went down to Hogsmeade, spent some time in my flat there, and thought about what Medea could want. She enjoyed books - she was a researcher for the Department of Mysteries - and I could likely find her something at Bodley and Tohms. After a fortifying cup of tea, I braved the thickly-falling snow and trudged down the high street. It was nearly five o'clock, and the stores were preparing to close for the holiday. I'd have to hurry.  
  
I entered the store followed by a whirlwind of snowflakes. Browsing the stacks, I found a copy of Magical Moron: The Unauthorized Biography of Gilderoy Lockhart. I figured that since I had complained to Medea all that year about that buffoon, she would enjoy the book. She certainly had enjoyed my letters about him, or so she said; apparently, they served as needed comic relief.   
  
I paid and exited, keeping one hand firmly planted on my hat. The wind had picked up, and the snow seemed so thick as to be a blizzard. I managed to struggle about twenty feet back up the street before having to duck in the Three Broomsticks to shelter from the storm. Brushing the snow off of my cloak, I took a brief glance around to see quite a brouhaha.   
  
Rosmerta, the proprietress, was bawling out the young bartender. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times - never serve Severus Snape! The man gives me the chills, and I don't want him in my pub!"  
  
The bartender, however, was giving as good as he got. Slamming down a shot glass, he shouted, "You saw how he was! A man in his condition needs a stiff drink - he doesn't need to be thrown out in the cold!"  
  
"That still doesn't excuse you giving him a bottle of - "  
  
I cleared my throat. Rosmerta jumped, saw me, and quickly became all smiles. "Professor McGonagall! What can I get for you?"  
  
I put on my sternest, most professorial look. "You can tell me where Professor Snape is."  
  
Rosmerta immediately assumed an indignant look. "He stumbled out of here, drunk as a Muggle - "  
  
"With no little assistance from Rosmerta's foot," put in the bartender with a glare.   
  
Rosmerta returned the glare and continued, "And where he went from there, I neither know nor care."  
  
I nodded curtly, thanked her, and left the Three Broomsticks. Well, really. Severus was not the most cheerful person in the world, but even drunk, you didn't shove someone out in the middle of a howling snowstorm - and on Christmas Eve, no less.  
  
I could hardly see, and that was likely why I stumbled on something. I looked down at my feet and saw a body. A long, black-clad body clutching a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky and snow collecting on the limp black hair. It was Severus.   
  
Sighing, I considered my options. I couldn't leave him there. I couldn't Apparate back to Hogwarts - even if the wards weren't there, I certainly couldn't get him to Apparate while he was inebriated. Floo powder - now there was an idea. I could take him back to my flat, light a fire, and get him back to Hogwarts from there. Having settled that, I drew out my wand and murmured, "Mobilicorpus!"  
  
Having raised Severus in front of me, I kept an arm on his shoulder to keep him from being buffeted about too badly by the wind. He also served as a shield for me - a light punishment for being drunk, even if it was a holiday. He was a teacher, after all, and a role model. That sort of thing just wasn't done.  
  
We reached my flat in due time, and after removing his cloak, I stretched him out on the old sofa in the living room. It was then that I noticed that not only was he soaked, a darker substance had crusted on his shirt. A reddish substance that looked a great deal like blood. 


	2. Part 2

Myrrh is mine: Its bitter perfume   
Breathes a life of gathering gloom.   
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying,   
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.  
  
-from "We Three Kings of Orient Are", John H. Hopkins, Jr.  
  
  
I did not think; I simply acted. If I had stopped to think, I likely would have reconsidered my actions - think of it, a young man being stripped by an old woman twice his age! - but I did not. Severus was injured, perhaps gravely, and I was the only person in a position to help him. There was certainly no time for modesty. Thus, I unbuttoned his shirt, peeled it carefully away where the blood had coagulated and affixed the fabric to his skin - Severus twitched - and placed it neatly on the floor beside me. Performing a quick Cauterizing Charm on him, I started a fire with my wand, warmed some water and added soap, sat down on a stool, and began to sponge the blood off of his chest.  
  
Severus reminded me a great deal of my nephew. Meleagrant was moody and dark, like Severus. However, Meleagrant had a lighter side - he was rather like young Percy Weasley in that aspect. He was stiff, but somewhat capable of relaxing and having a good time like young people should do. Meleagrant had a wicked sense of dry humor and a penchant for card games, and he was an excellent Quidditch player. In general, he was what I thought that Severus could be like if he was only given the chance.  
  
I remembered Severus as a first-year: quiet, bright, and hard-working. He wasn't dark then - no, Severus enjoyed life, he had friends, he was all right. And then he got older. I saw how he looked at Lily Evans - I'd had my share of unrequited love and I could certainly recognize the signs. I saw how James Potter and Sirius Black - lighthearted though they were - tortured him. And then, when given the opportunity to strike back, he did. That polite young man with the world ahead of him became a Death Eater.  
  
I looked on my students as my children. A parent should not outlive her children, as I had outlasted Potter and Evans. A parent should not stand idly by while her children are miserable, either, as I believed - no, knew - that Severus was. Meleagrant, for all his dark moods and stiff nature, was never like this. Meleagrant had been raised and shaped in much the same environs as Severus, Slytherin and all. Something had caused Severus to go in another direction, and that something might likely explain what Severus was doing drunk in Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve.   
  
I rinsed the sponge out in the basin and went to the bathroom. I poured the red-tinged water down the sink, opened the cabinet, and pulled out two flasks. One contained a hangover treatment, and the other contained a common analgesic potion. I kept the hangover treatment there for Meleagrant - he was of age, and he did not have a very good head for alcohol. Closing the cabinet, I took the flasks back into the living room, stopping by the small kitchenette on my way to get a cup. I set my load down on the floor, retrieved his cloak, spread it over him, pulled out my wand, and said clearly, "Ennervate."  
  
His hooded, guarded eyes blinked open, and with a gasp, he sat up. The cloak fell away from his chest, and he clasped it to him like a child with a stuffed animal. He looked at me blankly for a moment, and then his face was contorted into a mixture of fear and fury.   
  
I reached down for the flask containing the hangover medication, poured some into a cup, and handed it to him. "Drink this. It's for your hangover."  
  
Severus scowled, one hand reaching up to massage his temple. "I want some answers first."  
  
"I give you nothing until you drink this," I said firmly.  
  
He snatched the cup from me and bolted down its contents, making a horrible face. "This is served best - if that's possible - when warm. I would think that even a Transfiguration teacher would know that."  
  
My voice was icy. "And I should think that even a Potions teacher would know better than to roam the streets of Hogsmeade during a blizzard, 'drunk as a Muggle', as Madam Rosmerta put it."  
  
He had the decency to look abashed, but only briefly. "Answers."  
  
"Give me a question," I said.  
  
"Where is this?"  
  
"This is my flat in Hogsmeade."  
  
He seemed incredulous. "You keep a flat in Hogsmeade?"  
  
I said curtly, "Yes, I do." A change of subject was in order. "Do you feel pain anywhere?"  
  
"My chest hurts - " His voice cut off abruptly, and he dropped the cloak in order to examine his torso, where the Cauterizing Charm had repaired the dreadful gash in his chest. He traced a finger down the still-inflamed skin where a scar would soon form. He paled, but said nothing.  
  
I took the cup and filled it with the analgesic. "Drink this." He did. "Better?"  
  
"Somewhat." He eyed me as a cornered fox did its pursuers. "You found me?"  
  
"Oh, yes. To be precise, I stepped on you. You were passed out in the snow. I imagine the blood loss, combined with the cold and the empty bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky you had in your hand, was enough to make you pass out. I moved you here, cleaned you up some, and here you are." I couldn't keep a hint of sarcasm out of my voice, although I tried.  
  
He stared down at his hands, speaking quietly and without a trace of acid in his voice. "I suppose that I am in your debt."  
  
"And you owe me some explanations," I said. "Especially if I'm not going to go to Albus about this." That last phrase surprised me as much as it did Severus - I was infamous for enforcing rules and propriety for a reason.   
  
Severus stared at a spot behind my head - I was well aware it was at the picture of Medea, her husband Finn, my brother Maimonides, his wife Demetria, and Meleagrant. He said quietly, "I ran into an old colleague. We argued."  
  
"I'm correct in assuming that this old colleague is a..." I didn't want to say it. However, he said it for me.  
  
"A Death Eater?" He smiled wryly, deprecatingly, looking straight into my eyes. "Oh, yes. He was a Death Eater."  
  
I decided not to comment on his pointed use of the past tense. "And then?"  
  
"And then I made it to the Three Broomsticks, where the bartender was kind enough to give me that bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. I sat for a while, rather dazed, and drank the contents. Madam Rosmerta entered the main room, saw me, and insisted on booting me out. I remember wandering up the street for a while, and then everything blanks out." His gaze returned to the picture. "And that is what happened."  
  
After a moment, I said calmly, "It's not good enough, Severus."  
  
His dark eyes bored into me, blazing with the added light of the fire. It was a task not to shrink from that look, but I kept eye contact. "Not good enough?"  
  
"Not good enough. You had words with your - your former colleague." I noticed him wince slightly; he had recognized the unintended double entendre. "I want to know what those words were."  
  
Severus stared at me. "You - you can't know. You can't."  
  
"Severus, as young Lavender Brown would put it, I have 'dirt' on you. Don't make me use it." And he knew I would. That was the useful thing.   
  
He shook his head. I tried another tactic. By this time, I was curious. "Severus, I know that Albus is your mentor, your confessor. But he is not here. By the time we'd get back to Hogwarts, he'll be up at the Ministry, dining with Fudge. You can't tell him what's gone on today. And Severus, don't forget that I've been teaching a good deal longer than you have. I know when a student of mine needs to talk about something. Just - just try." I did not smile, for I knew he would see that as unnecessary sentimentality.  
  
Severus did not speak for a long while. Then he said, "I felt the Dark Mark this morning, Professor. It burned worse than it has in a long time. So much that I left the school - I knew one or another of the Death Eaters would be coming for me, and I did not want to put the school at risk. It never burned that horribly unless there was something urgent..." He swallowed heavily. "I came here, and indeed, someone came. I met him in an alley. We fought. I - I killed him." I tried to keep my face impassive, but I didn't succeed. "Professor, I didn't want to kill him. It was self-defense." He looked at me pleadingly from behind that iron wall of self-reliance, seemingly asking me - me! - for clemency.   
  
It broke my heart. The old first-year was still there. Was this what Albus saw when he looked at Severus? The scared young man who had made bad choices and regretted it? The young man resigned to his fate, whatever it was, figuring that whatever happened to him was a product of his past sins?  
  
In that instant, I realized two things about Severus. The first was why Albus trusted him with running interference between the Order and the Death Eaters. Underneath that well-crafted, impenetrable façade he had erected, there was that polite, brilliant young man - a young man who was integrally good and integrally trustworthy. The second thing that I realized was how much work Albus had put into Severus. All the years Severus had been teaching at Hogwarts - and likely a few years before that - Albus had been a combination of a therapist and a Muggle clergyman for him. After Severus had left the Death Eaters, he'd needed someone. His own parents were dead. He had no siblings. Due to the nature of his relationship with James Potter and Sirius Black, he came in contact with his headmaster a good deal. Albus would have cultivated a relationship with young Severus, encouraged him, told him that he was worth something, despite anything that his Slytherin brethren and my own Gryffindors would have him believe. Severus remembered that, and turned to Albus when he was in danger. I remembered him coming to Hogwarts as sort of an apprentice the summer before He Who Must Not Be Named's initial defeat. Albus had told me that he needed a place to stay for a while, and he would take over Professor Buckminster's Potions job at the beginning of the year. But couldn't he have just as easily been on the run from the Death Eaters?  
  
Albus had always kept a spot in his world for Severus - a spot that Severus needed. I had not. Was this, then, an opportunity for me to give him the support that I should have given him years ago when he turned away from his solid upbringing, when he joined the Death Eaters, and when Lily Evans died? I could not shake the idea.   
  
"Severus...Severus, I - " Even if I knew what I was going to say, I couldn't have said it at that moment. Instead, I simply reached out for his hand and squeezed it firmly, trying to compose my thoughts.  
  
And to my surprise, Severus squeezed back, closing his eyes, shadows dancing malevolently over his face. "Professor, I knew they'd come back eventually. I was alone and unprotected, Professor Dumbledore was going up to London, it was Christmas Eve. I didn't have anything to live for. I had just killed a man. Nobody...nobody would have missed me. So I went into the Three Broomsticks, convinced the bartender to give me that bottle of Ogden's, and went outside. The wind had picked up. I walked down the street, drinking as I went, hoping it would - hoping it would dull some of the pain." If what I thought was coming next truly was coming, I didn't want to hear it. "And - I took out the knife I use in class and - "  
  
I couldn't let him say it. "I know, Severus."  
  
"No - let me say it...I must..." He kept his eyes shut, speaking quickly. "I stabbed myself with it. And then I made it about thirty feet before I fell. It felt good to fall in the snow...a soft pillow...a good place to die. I remember thinking that I was making a grand Christmas surprise for whoever found me, and then after that, I don't remember anything."  
  
What could I say to that? I couldn't condemn him. It wasn't as though I hadn't felt the same way at least once in my life. It wasn't as though I hadn't tried to achieve the same ends, either. I didn't know if saying anything would help, but I would try. 


	3. Part 3

O sisters, too, how may we do  
For to preserve this day?  
This poor Youngling for whom we sing,  
Bye-bye, lulloo, lullay.  
  
  
-"Coventry Carol", Traditional  
  
  
There was silence for perhaps more than a minute before I took a deep breath and began to speak. "Severus, attempting to kill yourself is not a crime in the eyes of the law. And the High Court would never convict you of murder or even manslaughter for self-defence against an active Death Eater. Even if they tried, Albus would - he would never let that happen to you. You know that."  
  
His tired eyes told me that he knew.  
  
"Your own law is often harsher than the Ministry's, though. Your conscience may lead you to believe that because of your actions, you are not worthy of living."  
  
I leaned forward and took his other hand. "Listen to me, Severus. The very fact that you left Hogwarts because you did not want to endanger us is more than enough proof that you are a truly worthy human being. If you weren't, Albus wouldn't have made himself available as your confessor. He trusts you, Severus, and you know as well as I do that he only trusts those who are worthy of his trust. In laying such a great responsibility on you, he has as good as told you that he would trust you with his life. And if you died, whether or not it was for the Order, he would grieve for you as he would for his own son." As he did for his own son, I thought. I let that sink in for a minute before I continued. "I taught you Transfiguration for seven years. I have taught with you for fifteen years now. Despite the fact that we are not all that close, we still have a solid sort of acquaintanceship. You stay out of my way, I stay out of yours, and we'll exchange greetings while passing through Albus's office once in a while. Severus - I - I'm sorry it was that way. That it is that way. I've always felt that if I had done something when you were a student of mine - said a word to Potter or Black at an opportune time, separated you from Rosier or Avery - that you might not have joined the Death Eaters." He started to say something, but I cut him off. "Listen to me, Severus. You were too good for them. You always have been, and you always will be." I held his gaze. "And whatever you've done for them, whatever atrocities you've committed for them - you've been absolved. By both Albus - and me."  
  
I dropped my eyes. I couldn't look at him during this next part. "You wonder what authority I have to absolve you, Severus. Put it this way - I've noticed what you've been looking at on my wall tonight.  
  
"The young man on the far right was my nephew Meleagrant. He was approached by the Death Eaters the year before you arrived at Hogwarts. He had graduated, and he - accepted their offer. But he couldn't take the extent of the atrocities. He became a founding, albeit extremely covert, member of the Order instead, reporting only to Albus. Lucius Malfoy found him out after Meleagrant had sabotaged an operation. They killed him, and my husband, and everyone else in that picture except the woman on the far left - my sister Medea."  
  
I couldn't go on any further for the moment. Severus, however, began to speak wonderingly. "I remember him. I went on an operation with him. They called him the Black Lion - we all had names of that sort. And Professor - Minerva - he kept up appearances, but there was something odd about him - something odd for Death Eaters, anyway. He always tried his best not to...prolong the suffering. He was a Death Eater, Minerva, but his heart wasn't in it. I want you to know that."  
  
I cleared my throat. I did not want to hear that at the moment, even though I likely would later. There was more to the story. I had seen Severus as likely no other but Albus had - vulnerable. The least I could do was give him a little bit of myself in return.  
  
"You may remember that in your sixth year, I took a month's leave of absence, and Albus taught your class." He nodded. "Hogwarts had always sustained me - I felt as though the work I was doing was more than worthwhile. But it wasn't the most important thing in the world to me. That would have been my husband Theron. And when he - when he was killed...I had tried to prepare myself for that eventuality, but I never imagined how hard it would actually be. I simply stopped functioning. I did not want to live." I was speaking quite quickly now. "And I slipped in Professor Buckminster's stores and made myself a Sitra Achra." I saw his eyes widen, and I laughed bitterly. "Wouldn't have thought that a Transfiguration teacher would know that one, would you? At any rate, I took it back to my office and drank it, staring at a picture of Theron all the while. He was my everything, Severus. Everything." I swiped briefly at my eyes with anger. "And if Albus hadn't walked in on me, I would have died. As it was, he set me up in Theron's and my flat in Hogsmeade and sent a nurse to stay with me during the day. He himself watched me at night. The nights were the worst. I wandered the flat; Albus read. We would play endless games of chess. I suffered from hallucinations because of the aftereffects of the Sitra Achra, and I...I sometimes saw Albus as the Angel of Death. I fought him - literally. But he was always patient, always kind."  
  
I stared at my feet. "I owe him more than anyone knows. He - he gave me the gift of my life. I tried to throw it away - I rejected it. And he gave it back to me.  
  
"I returned to school on Christmas Eve, and I picked up where I had left off after the holidays." I didn't tell Severus about the one time I tried to speak to Albus about what had gone on - tried to thank him - he looked at me and said, You wish to repay me? When the time comes, do for someone else what I have done for you. Oh, I remembered that.  
  
I looked at Severus now, clasping his hands firmly in mine. "Severus, you deserve life. Your life is worth more than so much trash. It is precious - too precious to waste on worrying about past sins. First Albus, and now I, have absolved you; now I give you your life."  
  
Severus then proceeded to do exactly what I had done on a similar occasion so many years ago: he screwed up his face and began to cry. I then did what Albus had done on that same occasion: I took Severus in my arms and let him do it. When he was finished, he fell asleep. I did not let myself look at him. If I looked at him, I would lose it. I was dangerously close to the edge as it was. Instead, I took up the can of Floo powder, muttered, "Levo," lifted Severus, and took him back to Hogwarts and put him to bed. After tucking him in, I left immediately and went straight to Albus's office. 


	4. Part 4

Still through the cloven skies they come with peaceful wings unfurled  
And still their heavenly music floats o'er all the weary world.  
Above its sad and lowly plains they bend on hovering wing  
And ever o'er its Babel sounds the blessed angels sing.  
  
-Edmund H. Sears, "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear"  
  
  
  
I met Albus in the hall on his way back from dinner with Fudge. Before I said anything, he beckoned me to follow him. I did. We approached the gargoyle outside his office, and Albus said, "Ton-Tongue Toffee!" The gargoyle jumped aside, and we rode up the staircase. Albus said quietly, "Alohomora-Emerson," and the door opened.   
  
"An extra password?" I asked.  
  
He shrugged as he lit a fire. "Just something no one expects - not only the extra password, but the Emerson part itself."  
  
"You read Muggle literature - especially American Muggle literature?"  
  
Albus fetched two chipped mugs out of a cabinet and began to make hot chocolate, murmuring the necessaries as he responded. "I study - Fervio Aqua - anything that is instructive, Minerva. Emerson - Accumulo Mellitus - was a very intelligent man. He was the philosopher of the Transcendentalist movement - Concio - and Henry David Thoreau, the other most recognized Transcendentalist, was the one who put Emerson's ideas into action. Here's something of his I should have told you a long while ago: 'I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear...I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.' Of course, that brings up the question, 'What is life?'" He looked at me keenly as he passed me one of the mugs. "You had something happen to you tonight, Minerva."  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Sit," he said, pointing to one of two overstuffed chairs in front of the fire, and I did so, gathering my robes about me and arranging my hands on the mug so that they would be warmed. There had not been enough time for the fire to warm up the room since we had entered. Or perhaps that was my nervousness.   
  
Albus ensconced himself in the other chair and took a sip from his mug. "Tell me what happened."  
  
I told him everything. About the snowstorm, about Rosmerta and the bartender, about thinking that Severus was merely drunk, about how I repaired his chest, and what I knew of the fight between him and the Death Eater. Albus steepled his fingers and stared into the flames. "A dreadful thing to have happen on Christmas Eve, Minerva. However did you manage to get him back to school - I assume that's what you did?"  
  
I nodded, stiffening - this was it. "I - he fell asleep. I brought him back by Floo."  
  
He looked at me with those piercing blue eyes of his - just like Theron's. I knew that he knew what had happened; he just wanted me to say it. "Minerva, I highly doubt he just fell asleep after trying to commit suicide." Fawkes glided over from his perch and settled on the arm of Albus's chair. He stroked the phoenix idly, drinking some more hot chocolate.  
  
"I...told him that no court in the land would convict him of murder. I told him that...that you loved him. I apologized to him for not being more of a colleague to him, and not doing more to help him when he was a student. I absolved him of his actions. And...I told him about..."  
  
"Theron." He sighed. "I thought you might."  
  
I looked away from Albus, away from the fire, away from Fawkes. They were all too bright to look at; my eyes were watering.   
  
He said gently, "Was there anything else?"   
  
I swallowed. "I told him that I had the authority to absolve him...and...I gave him his life."  
  
"It's a life for a life, Minerva. In this case, several lives for one. You are generous."  
  
I was indignant - how could he be so callous? Shortly, I said, "It's nothing to do with generosity."  
  
Albus put down his mug, twisted in his chair, and looked at me. I stared back at him defiantly. After a moment, his stony façade broke and he slumped over. "I miss Theron too, Minerva. Don't ever think that I don't. He was my son, after all."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And it's Christmas Eve, when everyone by rights should be with their families...and people like you and me and Severus are not. And we thus think about what we had, or might have had, or didn't have. I can understand why Severus wanted to kill himself. Poor boy. You and I at least have Theron to remember. He has nothing worth remembering." He was quiet for a while. "I assume the result was a reenactment of Christmas Eve seventeen years ago?"  
  
I nodded. "Down to the tears and all. Although he fell asleep, and I did not."  
  
The ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Then he'll be all right. You did well." He sounded almost proud.  
  
I set my mug on the floor and began to leave. His voice came to me over the back of his armchair. "Minerva - "  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Consider all debts paid."  
  
And with that, I dissolved. Hands to my face, I began to sob. For Theron, Meleagrant, Maimonides, Demetria, Finn, Medea, Severus, Albus, myself. It simply wasn't fair. Even young Harry Potter had somewhere to go for Christmas - a substitute family in the Weasleys. I was tired of having to be strong. I was tired of accepting my lot in life and keeping up a wall against the flood tide of grief and loneliness that had been roiling in me for the past seventeen years. I had not had a minute's respite from the Fwooper sitting on my shoulder. I just wanted to be able to forget everything, even if it was just for ten minutes.  
  
I felt Albus's arms around me, and I clung to him desperately. He said softly in my ear, "Minerva, I want you to listen to me, and listen to me well. Not everyone can be stoic all the time. Everyone is allowed to break, especially when they are under the kind of strain that you are under. It's not good to keep things inside, Minerva. They ferment until they explode under the right conditions, just like right now. It's all right. It's all right." He handed me his handkerchief, and I wiped my eyes. "Come and sit down again."   
  
He led me to the chair and perched himself on the ottoman. "I have a theory on why the magical community celebrates Christmas. It's more of the peace-on-earth, good-will-towards-men-type thing than the traditional view. More of the message and tradition than the birth of a Messiah. And, of course, the presents." I couldn't keep a small smile from my face at that. "I assume you know the Christmas story."  
  
I nodded. "Herod, Bethlehem, the manger, the Wise Men - "  
  
He cut me off. "What did the three wise men bring to the child?"  
  
"One gift apiece. Let's see...gold, frankincense, and myrrh."  
  
Albus smiled. "Minerva, I'm going to indulge in an extended metaphor - I hope you don't mind. Severus has, in effect, been exiled and reborn in a barn tonight. You brought him a gift. That makes you the lone wise woman."  
  
I mulled that over for a minute. He continued, "You've retold the Christmas story in a new way, and in one that saved a life. You're deserving of the title of 'wise woman'." He took up my hands. "Theron, my dear, would be proud of you...as I am right now."  
  
Words were not necessary after that point. We wept together for a while in remembrance. When we had cried ourselves out, we took up the hot chocolate once more, and began to toast crumpets over the fire. Soon, however, we began to have discussions about past Christmases, the adventures at various Dumbledore family reunions, and all the exploits of myself, Maimonides, and Medea as children. We sat there for hours, telling stories, when the grandfather clock in the corner boomed, "Merry Christmas!"  
  
Albus said, "That's the only time of the year that that clock talks. I think it's time we went to bed - presents don't come until after we're asleep. Allow me to escort you to your chambers."  
  
I bid farewell to Fawkes, who swished his tail at me, and we descended the staircase silently. The halls were quiet, the portraits were still, and even Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris were abed. We stopped at the Maxfield Parrish painting of an exuberant young lady dancing on a clifftop, and he bowed to me. "A merry Christmas to you, Minerva, and I shall see you later this morning at breakfast."  
  
I nodded. "Likewise, Albus."  
  
He smiled and went back down the hall. I tapped on the painting. "Livia!"  
  
The girl quit her dancing mid-leap and crashed. "Professor!" she whined. "You startled me!"  
  
"My sincerest apologies," I said dryly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go to bed. There are presents in the morning."  
  
"Presents? Is it Christmas?"  
  
"Yes," I said impatiently.  
  
Livia grinned. "Oh, Christmas is such a lovely holiday. I remember one year when -"  
  
"Gladrags Wizard Wear," I said clearly.   
  
The portrait swung open and I stepped through. Silly girl. I'd have to see what I could do about organizing a portrait party tomorrow or something of that sort.   
  
I changed into my night robes and looked at myself in the mirror, thinking over the events of the night. Who would have thought it? A wise woman. "I am a wise woman," I said out loud.  
  
The mirror grumbled, "No wise woman would be up this late, waking up honest mirrors. Go to bed!"  
  
It was excellent advice. I took it. 


End file.
